


One word, Oneshot

by highfunctioningsupersoldiersociopath



Series: Words Have The Power To Change Us [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Drabbles, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Vigilante Reader, Words, challenge, for myself, oneshots, pyrokinesis, set by myself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-02-26 08:16:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 7,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13231734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highfunctioningsupersoldiersociopath/pseuds/highfunctioningsupersoldiersociopath
Summary: I have devised a challenge for myself where I'll post a piece of writing based on a word from an online random word generator. This is supposed to be a little bit of fun and I won't be taking it too seriously, but either way, I really hope you enjoy.Tags and ratings will be updated where necessary.





	1. Chicken

"Y/n, why is there a chicken?"

"Hm?" You looked up from where you were lounging on the couch on your phone.

"Why is there a chicken strutting up and down our hall like it owns the bloody place?" He elaborated, irritation seeping into his tone.

You laughed, realising the absurdity of the situation before answering, "Tony needed a place to put it."

"And he decided to put it in here?" He asked incredulously.

He had started to pace up and down the length of the living room while you watched him from where you were sat. You couldn't comprehend why he looked so beautiful when he was frustrated. Maybe it was the way he raked his hands through his already tousled hair, or how his steely eyes darted between you and the rest of the room, trying to figure out how to deal with the problematic chicken.

"Well," you said trying to explain yourself, "I was the one who -jokingly- suggested he put it in his suite, but that somehow gave him the idea that I would be _willing_ to have it here. Of course," you added quickly, seeing he was about to speak again. "Of course, I knew you wouldn't want it here either but he just pushed past me and dumped it here and there's nothing I can do to remove it 'til Stark gets his ass up here and takes it away himself 'cause Friday won't open the lift doors if I'm holding it- _you think I didn't try that_?" You sucked in a breath as you finished your rant and Bucky slumped down beside you, wearily pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What on Earth does he need a chicken for in the first place?"

You shrugged.

He sighed and leaned his head on your shoulder as if the weight of the years was finally catching up with him.

"How about we wring its neck and eat it for tea?" He suggested with a wry smile.

You chuckled, "I think-"

"Sergeant Barnes, Mr Stark informs me that you will be, quote: kicked out the window if you even touch his chicken," Friday interjected before you could finish.

"-that's a great idea."

"Well can't we at least have some fun while it's here?" Bucky argued.

"That depends on what you classify as 'fun,' sir." Replied the AI.

"Ohh," he muttered darkly against you, and somehow the way his voice vibrated through his body made it sound even more sinister. "Definitely not how the dictionary defines it."


	2. Lettuce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad jokes are on the menu today.

“Hey, Buck,” you knocked several times.

“Y/n?”

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?” He sighed, humouring your antics.

“Lettuce.” You could see one of his magnificent blue eyes sparkling at you through the peephole.

“Lettuce who?” He questioned, already knowing where this was going, voice muffled by the door standing between you.

“Open the goddamned door and lettuce in, will ya?” You grinned as he opened the door with a resigned smile that only widened as he saw you standing there. You rushed forward to tackle him in a bear hug, that he easily reciprocated, after not having seen your best friend for so long.


	3. Meddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sassy vigilante reader ends up in a bit of a predicament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had more time to write today, and after finding part of this in my drafts, I thought I could add to it so it would be worth posting. Therefore, this one is longer. Enjoy!

_Oh geez, what a bastard_ , you thought as the guy came at you once again with a poorly timed right hook. _He’s making such a racket, it was probably a good idea that I wrote the note before I left._

You had been able to sweet talk your way into setting up a meeting with one of the city’s biggest douchbags. The whole deal was shady, but you had managed to convince him to meet you in this alley out of the way by merely leaning forward a bit giving his perverted brain a good ol’ look at your cleavage your fancy frock showed off. The sickly grin he had given you after make you want to throw up all over his designer shoes.

You shook your head in disappointed exasperation, having prepared for a better tussle than this.

With one well-placed final blow to his head, you knocked him cold and he fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Kneeling down, you saw that you had given him a nice shiner and a split lip that hadn’t stopped bleeding yet and smirked, knowing they weren’t the worst of his injuries. After tucking your note neatly inside his dress shirt breast pocket, you decided to give your steel capped boots a work out and took your anger out on his perverted ribs, figuring that it should serve him right for making the life choices he had.

Springing up a fire escape, you decided to leave an urgent anonymous tip with the police that one of their high profiles was unconscious in the alley below you. But until they arrived, you would watch from your vantage point on the roof of a neighbouring building.

By the time you arrived back at your apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, you were exhausted, the adrenaline having finally worn off, making your muscles sore and eyelids heavy.

Making your way to the kitchen you poured yourself a glass of water and downed it as if you had been stranded in the desert. Leaving the now empty glass by the sink you couldn’t be bothered to go all the way to your bed on the opposite side of the apartment, so you collapsed on the nearest sofa, with an exhausted ‘umph’ being forced from your lungs, not caring about the state you’d wake up in in the morning. Sleep came almost immediately.

-

“You’re sure this is the girl?” Voices drifted into your consciousness, interrupting a wonderfully dreamless sleep.  You could feel the comfortable material of your couch beneath you, so not bothering to listen for any other voices, thinking that it was just your imagination, you shifted your position to face the back of your makeshift bed, trying to get comfortable so Hypnos could whisk you away again.

“But are you sure, Cap? Like, absolutely positive?" A short pause before, "Because I’m not sure some bad-ass vigilante would dribble in her sleep, y’know?” There was that voice again. It was like honey dripping smoothly from his lips. His- a male in your apartment, uninvited- what is this blasphemy? You bolted upright at that. Not that you disliked the male population just that you didn’t know any well enough to allow into your safe haven. Well, apart from your neighbour, Matt, if he needed any help. But that was under different circumstances.

Your heart beat in your ears as you searched for the source of the voice.

“Hey, sweetheart.” You whipped around to face the intruder, who had settled themselves in the opposite armchair.

You could only stare, dumbstruck. What on earth was the Falcon doing in your armchair?

Sensing that you weren’t going to do anything, Sam stood up and came to stand in front of the sofa. Maybe it was the angle you were looking from, but he seemed taller in real life and you voiced such opinion with nothing better to say.

He chortled, obviously expecting some witty remark of aggressive outburst and you could see his abdominals contract under his thin olive green t-shirt. There was also faint tinny laughter coming from his earpiece that you had only just noticed. Decisively making up your mind, you stood and brushed past him on your way to your room to get changed, slamming the door behind you. You had absolute faith he’d still be there when you emerged dressed in comfortable but smart jeans paired with a not so smart, old and tatty, clearly well-worn band t-shirt. You were right; he was still there, having made himself comfortable in the armchair again. There must be others in this operation on or around the premises; perhaps several people outside making sure you didn’t decide to escape by jumping out of a window or some other obscure shit; it would explain why he is so relaxed and not in his flying suit (one that you had admired openly to your friends on multiple occasions).

“Damn Cap,” he exhaled. “Are you sure this lass is capable of beating the shit out of _anyone_?”

‘ _Cap’? Oh, Captain America, of course_. While he had been commenting on your choice of clothing, you had slid on your Converse and slipped behind him for a little surprise that should put him in his place.

“Ow, ow! Watch it lady,” he complained as you twisted his right arm behind him, not to harm him, just prove a point, but you squeezed his wrist anyway to let him know you were capable of more.

“I suggest you don’t underestimate me, Mr Wilson.” You hissed over his left shoulder, your eyes glinting with a barely contained fire.

Then just like nothing had happened, you dropped his arm and headed over to the front door where your coat was hanging on a peg. “Are you taking me somewhere or not?” You asked with a cheery smile.

Falcon seemed to remember himself despite looking a little bewildered and led you to a car waiting outside, still wincing and rubbing his arm.

 -

The crick in your neck was almost unbearable, the pain bringing you back into reality. Your thoughts were sluggish as you took in your surroundings. _Great_ ; an interrogation room only several metres square with an obnoxiously big observation window that presented you with your glaring reflection. The walls a muted grey matched seamlessly with the table you were handcuffed to.

_Handcuffed to a table?_ That seemed to lift your thoughts out of the thick mud they were struggling through and to start soaring through the sky as you struggled to remember how you ended up here. You could hear loud laughter coming from the other side of the glass, _weren’t these things supposed to be sound proof_ , you thought, but it triggered images of walking out of your apartment building closely followed by Sam Wilson, climbing into a sleek black car that obviously belonged a government agency or some rich bastard. There had been someone else in the back seat, they had smiled kindly at you, with what you now figured to be sorrow in their eyes before you were held down and felt a pinprick of pain on your neck but by then it was too late to do anything other than slump down in defeat and let the sedative take over.

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you mentally prepare yourself for any questions they fired at you, no matter how stupid. You figured it would be best to keep up the sangfroid façade showing that you weren’t fazed by the fact you had no idea where you were despite being able to have a pretty good guess.

The sound of the door opening behind you caught your attention, yet you refused to look at the person who may be able to crack you. They gently closed it behind them, indicating to you they weren’t in an agitated mood as of yet. _But we haven’t even started, so this should be interesting._

“Miss L/n,” said the person, and your heart immediately skyrocketed: you’d recognise that voice anywhere, and any thoughts you had about riling the person up had flew out of the room via a non-existent window. “I’d like to start not by questioning how you've been meddling with affairs beyond your control, but with the matter of why I am the only one mentioned in the notes you leave.”

You were speechless as Bucky Barnes sat down in front of you, folding his hands carefully on the table as if he had all the time in the world.


	4. Watch

One day, Tony had had the genius idea to have a swimming pool installed in the grounds of the compound, and recently, as the weather warmed up, you had been making the most of it before the others decided to use it for enjoyment purposes rather than exercise.

It calmed your mind and helped reduce the stress you’d built up over the day.

You usually swam in the evening, the cooling temperature of the day contrasting blissfully with the heated water. There was even an option to have fancy lights on underwater. You didn’t understand why, that was just Tony.

Bucky had occasionally joined you in these evening swims, but they usually ended up in the bedroom, so although you enjoyed his company, you often didn’t mention to anyone when you would be swimming lengths.

“Thought I’d find you out here, darlin’.”  Bucky said as he casually approached the pool, the lights casting shadows along his handsome features against the setting sun.

You were currently floating on your back, sculling slowly from one end to the other, enjoying having the pool to yourself. “You not joining today Barnes?” you inquired, seeing he wasn’t wearing swimming trunks.

“Not today, sweetheart.” He said with smile and perched himself on the edge of a lounger and sat there watching while you swam, lost deep in his thoughts.

 

Bucky enjoyed watching you swim, the way your muscles moved under your skin elegant as you glided through the turquoise water was hypnotising. He had often thought about asking Steve to draw you, but the idea of even his best friend seeing you like this made a bubble of protectiveness rise up from the depths of his heart and burst into tiny little drops of unexplainable anger at himself for even thinking such a thing. Steve would probably be delighted to have such a challenge, but he wanted the moment to last a bit longer, to keep your sleek streamline body ingrained in his memory - an image he didn’t want to share.

Even if Steve did sketch you, he thought, he wouldn’t be able to capture the way you always smelt of chlorine afterwards, how it lingered in your hair even after you’d showered and had curled up next to him in bed, his face burying his face in your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo but also the undeniable smell of the pool, how the memories of watching you were something he’d treasure, or how his heart would swell with immense adoration.

His arm was somehow waterproof - he didn’t understand the science behind it, but the overwhelming insecurity of being semi-naked in front of someone as stunning as you sometimes prevented him from joining you no matter how desperately he wanted to.

But for now, he was content with watching.


	5. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the rest of the world sleeps, there are two souls that remain awake.

Quiet reigned over the compound as the agents were tucked up snug in bed. If there were nightmares, they were yet to attack, leaving you alone, free to roam the winding halls that were bathed in darkness.

You let your mind wander, thinking about each family member that you left behind for this cause. It saddened you immensely, but on the flip side of the coin, you had met such wonderful, inspirational, and beautifully bad-ass people here.

One of those people being Bucky Barnes. He was a light that guided you when the path was unclear, even if he didn’t know it. He was the reason you were wandering the halls in the middle of the night.

You approached a much smaller sitting room than the main one- it classified more as a snug - and entered, seeing the familiar silhouette of the man that had captured your heart.

He was standing in front of the floor to ceiling window, back to the door. An absence of light pollution allowed the silvery light from the stars and the new moon to barely illuminate the room; it was enough to tell that he, like you, had not gone to bed yet. Approaching him, you silently stood by his side, gazing out across the grounds, attention occasionally being caught by the odd bird returning home to the trees around the perimeter for the night, preparing to continue their lives once more when the sun rose.

Sunrise was a long way off at the moment, though, and through the stillness of the night, you caught a glimpse of Bucky glancing down at you with tenderness in his expression before wrapping his arm around your shoulders, bringing you close to his side, enveloping you in his warmth and pressing a chaste kiss to your temple.

It was then, you thought, that you realised that despite having blood relatives elsewhere on the globe, and no matter how much you loved and missed them, Bucky would always be your home that you would fight to return to. Both, however, you would fight to protect.


	6. Scorch

You sat on your bed, with papers spread out in front of you. You were supposed to be reading a file for an upcoming mission, but you had lost interest. Instead, you were playing with a flame in the palm of your hand, concentrating on keeping it contained in specific shapes. First a square, then a heart, then a triangle, circle, and line, coming together to create the Deathly Hallows symbol, and finally a bald eagle, which you figured was close enough to the S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem. As you morphed the fire into increasingly complex shapes, the more fatigued you became. Extinguishing the flame, you fell back onto your pillows, ignoring the way the papers around your legs creased and shifted against each other as you stretched your legs out.

You had been born with the ability to control the oxygen in the air around you and make it react with an unknown chemical secreted from your palms. You had only discovered it in your teenage years when your hormones went out of sync and you accidentally set fire to the grass you were sunbathing on one summer simply by thinking about how hot you were getting under the sun, and how cool the grass was as you trailed your fingers through the lush strands.

Later, after years of hiding, ignoring, and then finally accepting what you could do, you were approached by a man named Phil who offered you a chance to put your abilities, as he’d called them, to good use by saving people and taking out the bad guys.

Fast forward a couple of years and you have worked your way through the ranks, earning yourself an opportunity to work with the Avengers. You had been doing this for almost a year now, and despite baffling Bruce with chemistry he can’t understand, suffering all of Tony’s pyromaniac jokes, and Steve’s almost overwhelming support and enthusiasm to help you better yourself, you were able to form comfortable relationships with everyone, including the initially reserved Winter Soldier.

You were literally like fire and ice. Tony had yet to comment on that but you and Bucky were opposites attracted. Instead of going off with a bang, a brief fling, your relationship started with a small burning ember and eventually grew into a brilliant friendship as its flames grew bigger and brighter.

 

“Y/n! Y/n! Wake up, doll! Come on, wake up! You’re setting fire to the sheets!” Bucky’s loud and urgent voice brought you out of your slumber. You felt the heat before you realised what was going on. Bolting upright, you extinguished the blaze surrounding you and staggered off the bed before it could spread.

“Are you alright?” Bucky carefully approached you, checking for any burns.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, slightly breathless; that had never happened to you before and it made you question whether you were truly in control of yourself.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, seeing the doubt in your eyes and rubbing your arms in a comforting fashion. “Everything’s alright now, okay? Well, apart from those papers, they’re a bit burnt, but they’re replaceable; you aren’t.”

At this little speech, you threw your arms around him and hugged him tight, unable to express the emotions you were feeling.

Then, throwing all caution to the wind, you pulled back and smashed your lips against his. It was uncoordinated and messy, but he responded to your touch and you felt your heart soar like it was being boosted into the air on a solar flare, up to where the stars burned brightly and you along with them.

You pulled away breathless and dazed and Bucky had a dazzling grin spreading on his face before he started to chuckle.

You drew away from him, the self-doubt returning threefold. You couldn’t understand why he was laughing like this, and it made you regret making the move and crossing the line that you wouldn’t be able to return from.

Sensing your distress, and not wanting you to run away, Bucky manages to calm himself down enough to explain.

“Who would’ve thought me walking past your room and smelling smoke would’ve ended up like this.” He mused, slowly closing the gap between your bodies again. His gaze tracked its way down your face, stopping at your lips before shooting back up to your eyes: seeking permission but still afraid you had withdrawn into yourself. A minute nod from you later and he was kissing you with just as much passion as you had kissed him earlier. Reciprocating had never been so easy and he smelt like an intoxicating mix of burning log fire and something uniquely Bucky. He seemed just as taken with you as you were with him.

“What a shame about those papers,” you said, ecstatic, grinning from ear to ear when you withdrew for breath.


	7. Bless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pollen is a bitch.

“ACHOO!” Bucky sneezed into the crook of his elbow and groaned, sniffling pathetically.

“Bless you.” You said automatically. Then you continued as a thought struck you, “I thought you said super soldiers don’t get colds? I _did tell you_ to take an umbrella yesterday, but apparently, you don’t need those either.”

“No, it’s called hay fever, doll. Sadly, we are still affected by fucking pollen.”

“Well, that’s what you get for landing the Quinjet so far away that we have to walk through a damn meadow!” You sassed back, trying to disguise that you were affected too and your eyes were watering slightly.

“Hey! Where else were we supposed to land, huh? Oh, I know, I should have landed right on their doorstep then they might have welcomed us with open arms.” You couldn’t help but laugh as you approached a stile and he gestured for you to go first.

The rest of the walk back was spent in companionable silence, both of you thinking about how your mission had been successful and how you would relax and wind down when you returned to the compound, preferably in the other’s arms.


	8. Fortunate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best kind of morning.

Warm even breaths on your cheek gradually drew you out of a rarely peaceful slumber. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you opened them to find Bucky’s head on the pillow right beside yours, the mid-morning light making the room seem fresh and his skin pale in contrast to his hair that was tangles and spread over the pillow. The frown lines on his forehead practically non-existent making him look younger than his years. He had also managed to half drape himself over you so that you were unable to move. Not that you wanted to on a beautiful morning like this.

When you were younger, never in your wildest dreams had you imagined this would be how your life would turn out to be like. Waking up next to the man of your dreams had never been on the cards, but then, thinking back, the cards hadn’t all been dealt.

Unable to resist, and simply because you could, you started pressing chaste kisses to Bucky’s face where you could reach without straining your neck too much. It didn’t take long before he woke with a sleepy grin that made your heart somersault in your ribs. He tightened the hold his arm had around your middle and buried his head in the crook of your neck, getting comfortable again, wanting this moment to last forever.

You would certainly get used to this if you could, but unfortunately, both of your lifestyles and occupations prevented mornings like this from being an often occurrence.

A buzz from your bedside alerted you that a new text had come through. Wondering whether it was important, you stretched to get it, refusing to leave your comfortable position. You felt rather than heard Bucky groan at the idea that your perfect morning might be ruined, but you reassured him while reading it, “It’s fine, it’s only Nat saying that tomorrow’s mission has been postponed... oh, until further notice.”

You released a sigh of relief at your good fortune; that you’ll get to spend the morning after this in the same way, and Bucky hummed in approval, a deliciously deep and scratchy hum, voice unused with sleep, as you settled back down.

Soon enough both of you had fallen back into slumber wrapped in each other’s warmth under the covers of your shared bed.


	9. Tall

“Y/n, you’re taller than normal.” He said it like the declarative was an interrogative so there was an invisible question mark drifting through the air around his eyebrows that furrowed in confusion, trying to figure out the situation.

“Dummy,” you laughed. “I’m wearing heels.”

“Ah.” His sheepish grin said it all. “Well, you still look as beautiful as ever, Doll.” He said, trying to cover for his mistake, while his cheeks felt like they were burning up an inferno.

You beamed; walking up to him and pressing a feather light kiss to his slightly pink cheek, “You don’t look too bad yourself, Sergeant.” And it was true, he didn’t look too bad in his well-fitting suit, with the top button of his shirt undone because he wasn't wearing a tie, saying it made him feel like he was being strangled. You didn’t mind, either way you doubted you would be able to tear your eyes away from him for longer than a minute.

“Come on Doll, let’s go before Tony starts sending people to look for us.” He said, tucking your arm in his and leading the way to the elevators that would eventually take you to where the fun was.


	10. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mutated DNA has its pros and cons.

 

> Dear James,
> 
> I hope this finds you well. I am faced with a dilemma: I’m torn between spending time getting to know you again or just letting you slip through my fingers. I’m scared that if I do spend time knowing you again, will I like what I learn? Would it just be easier to let go? I thought we had something back then, back when the world was easier and simpler, back when we were only boy and girl, not soldier and mutant, but alas times have changed and us along with it.
> 
> I appreciate that you may feel the same way, that you’ve nearly lost me; please trust me when I say I haven’t changed much, although perhaps maybe I have in ways I cannot yet see. I believe the world has been crueller to you, therefore I will let you decide whether or not we should remain in each other’s lives.
> 
> When Steve had informed me that you were alive, to say I was shocked is an understatement but I was at the time indisposed so unfortunately couldn’t make time to see you.
> 
> Either way, the decision is in your hands.
> 
> Yours,
> 
> Y/n.

 

You sighed as you folded the letter and tucked it neatly into the envelope. Several years ago Steve had given you an address that you used to contact him, but with modern technology, you mainly communicated via text. This time, however, the circumstances were different. Standing up from your writing table, you decided to post it when the morning came around.

Six months later, you received a reply, just not the one you were expecting. The vanilla envelope was crisp and the neat handwriting familiar. Inside, was a short note:

 

 

> I’m sorry, Y/n. After the events that have happened recently, which I’m sure you’ve seen on the news (a lot of which is false or has been glorified), Buck has decided to go back on ice until he feels safe in his own mind again.
> 
> I’m sorry I can’t divulge our whereabouts but I hope you can understand. I’ll be there with him so don’t worry yourself. I hope you can forgive me for reading your letter. See you soon.
> 
> Yours,
> 
> Steve.

 

You felt numb as you remembered the events of Lagos, Vienna, and at the airport in Germany. You were glad you had stayed away from those events, but if you had known your childhood sweetheart had been there, then maybe you would have gone.

You could wait. You had all the time in the world, literally. A couple of years at most would only be a second in your predicted lifetime, anyway. You slumped against the papered wall that hadn’t been changed in decades as a silent tear rolled down your cheek, not noticing that there was an extra piece of paper in the envelope that had a delicate sketch of the man in question looking like he was in a peaceful sleep if it wasn’t for the machinery he was surrounded with or the ice obscuring most of his features.


	11. Starvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cookies!

"Buck, come on man, I'm dying over here," you whined.

"No you're not, Y/n," he said with amused exasperation. "You just have a cold. Stop making such a big deal out of it."

"No, I am dying. I haven't eaten anything in hours! What is wrong with me...?" You flung your forearm over your eyes to emphasise your point.

"Stop being so melodramatic, Y/n. I'll get you some damn food. What do you want?"

You perked up at this. You were being dramatic on purpose, only to get a reaction out of your boyfriend. He had been so unsympathetic to your illness that you thought you may as well act as if you were dying. However, you hadn't actually expected him to get food.

"Hmmm, cookies would be good." You said with a sickly sweet smile, fully aware of how you were taking advantage of him and his willingness to do anything for you.

A sudden weight on your lap and the crinkling of a packet let you know Bucky had thrown you the biscuits. You looked up to see where he was that required throwing such a delicacy, but he had disappeared out of sight. However, a couple of minutes later, the sound of water running in the shower told you all you needed to know.

You had nearly eaten the whole packet when Bucky reemerged, all freshly shaven and damp hair and leaving a scent that was distinctly body wash in his wake. 

"Are you starving now, doll?" He inquired in a mocking tone, strolling over to where you lay.

Sensing that he was trying to rile you up, you played along, throwing your arm into the same position as before. "Oh, my love, the only thing I am starved of now is your touch!"

He barked out a laugh at this and lifted your outstretched legs so he could sit down and place them on his lap.

"Better, your Highness?" A slight smirk played on his rosy lips as his eyes crinkled adorably at the corners.

"Of course," you grinned.


	12. Endurable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the worst pain isn't physical, but there are some things in the physical world that can certainly exacerbate it and there are some things that can make it more bearable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve's pov.

Steve slowly climbed the stairs to the common room in the residential wing of the compound. At this time of night, the air was still and only the hum of the heating or AC could be heard. He preferred to take the stairs rather than the lifts because it gave him time to think, to organise his thoughts, and to collect himself and rearrange his demeanour to one he could present.

Most of the occupants were in bed at this hour, but he was unable to rest, images of a past lifetime flashing before his eyes every time he closed them. His heart ached for something he couldn’t have; it was the anniversary of Peggy’s death and today was ruthless when it came to the pain of nostalgia and anything he did failed to dispel this horrible feeling and how he longed for a simpler time, especially when he was just Steve, not Captain America _and_ Steve.

Earlier in the day, he and Tony had been discussing what the plan of action on their next mission would be, but all he could focus on was trying not to throw up at the sound of Tony repeatedly clicking his pen on the table. As a result, he had been sent away by the other man who had become fed up with his short answers and voice that sounded like his mind was far away, which coincidentally it was, just in time, not space.

He had made his way to the training room, where the punching bags were hung in the corner. Exerting himself physically seemed to be the only way he could endure the rogue thoughts that invaded his mind, casually reminding of the importance of today but with each punch, the vividness of each thought was slowly erased until they were nothing but the sand that ended up spilling on the floor as the bag split as it had fallen, landing heavily on the cold ground.

When he reached the common room, the light was off, but a blue light illuminated the far end of the room where the television was located. He didn’t recognise what was being watched but through the dimness, he could see two silhouettes that resembled his best friend and Y/n.

They were cuddled together with Y/n’s head resting on Bucky’s shoulder making her form seem smaller than it truly is. He had been her opponent in many sparring matches, and he knew how lethal she could make herself, but in that moment, both of them unaware they were being observed, they seemed normal, ordinary even, just a common couple enjoying a night in.

The sight brought a sad smile to Steve’s face that lasted only a second before a streak of jealousy shot through his heart, making him wish he could have nights like these, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made and this seemed to be one of them.

Slipping his phone out of his pocket, he deftly opened the camera app like Y/n had shown him when he had first been introduced to this tech and snapped a picture of the two of them. He decided he would paint it rather than just a simple sketch, the blues fading into darkness in such a way that he hadn’t tried before and would present a challenge that may keep his mind occupied enough not to fall back into history. Bucky’s birthday would be soon; maybe he could give it to him. His friend would be so pleased with it, and it was the least he could do.

But for now, as he slowly trudged to his room to shower, he would have to forge his own path in the world with only his memories to keep him company.

Maybe tomorrow would be better.


	13. Different

Bucky moved to stand by the window of the room.

Spring was nearly upon them. His thoughts lightened at the prospect of warmer weather and not having to worry about the cold anymore; he hated the arctic winds and the icy downpours like Scrooge hated Christmas. He could hear the sea rolling and crashing when the winds were particularly gale-like and it unexpectedly helped him sleep at night

The daffodils had begun to show through the long grass that was in need of trimming and a thought struck him that he’d never actually seen it be cut. Stark would probably hire someone.

The sound of the shower switching off in the adjoining bathroom focused his mind on the person he had recently found himself constantly thinking about.

Every time Y/n would enter the room, his attention would zero in on them, no matter what else was happening. He would take in the way the light bounced off their hair, making it shine and how it would light up their eyes no matter how downcast they were. A small detail he quickly picked up on was that the way they walked often reflected their mood. For example, they would literally have more of a spring in their step if happy or excited or adversely their steps would become lazier and their feet would drag more if the disposition was more of a depressed one.

The Christmas party Stark had held at the end of the previous year had changed their lives, he hoped, for that was where he had lain his heart before them with some optimism that they would accept his advances and would potentially reciprocate, or at the very least, allow him to take them out on a date. Dinner and dancing, and all that malarkey from what he remembered from that time he now classifies as _Before_. That was when he had more confidence in this area of life, but he prided himself on trying. His psychologist had once offhandedly mentioned trying to find the good in the bad, and he had taken that to heart.

Here he was now, waiting for Y/n to finish cleaning up so he could take them to a fairground that had set itself up in the park in the city. It was low-key but that was alright, he didn’t really want anything more than that. Simply spending time with Y/n was more than enough.


	14. Suspend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst???

He held you in his arms so securely that you doubted you could ever find a safer place in the world. His love was like a protective force field that surrounded you. Your shared warmth spread through your bones and into your heart where it settled with an ache, like an itch that couldn't be scratched.

Something felt off but you couldn't place what at the moment so you put it to the back of your mind and focused on the present.

He let out a contented hum as he trailed his fingers over the exposed skin of your hip. It sent a shiver up your spine as you felt him pull you impossibly closer, pressing your relaxed bodies together like the sky meeting the sea underneath the duvet that shielded you both from the outside world.

You eyes opened slowly, aware of your surroundings immediately. The expanse of the bed beside you was cold and empty, the curtains were drawn haphazardly against the weak morning light. The ache in your heart was still there, becoming threefold as you remembered the past month.

The ship. Why did you have to be on a ship? Surrounded by an endless ocean that amplified your loneliness and sucked up all the hope you held close.

You remember the beginning, where you were wrapped up in Bucky's arms in post-coital bliss. The smell of sex and something purely Bucky filling your nostrils and the gentle lap of waves against the side of the cruise ship lulling you both into an easy slumber.

You remember the middle, the alarms like foghorns penetrating you ears and invading your senses like wasps swarming around your head. Bucky, already awake and on full alert, pulling a t-shirt over his head of mussed hair, calling out for you to hurry up, you need to get to the lifeboats. It was utter panic on deck. Women and children went first with terrified looks plastered on their faces. You refused to let go of your new husband's hand.

You remember the end. The plank of wood that you clung to for dear life, the icy waters reflecting the flames of the sinking ship that illuminated the starless sky. You remembered the way your throat ached from smoke inhalation and screaming yourself silly for help. _Just somebody help me... please..._

The SOS boat had arrived not long after you lost the feeling in your legs. The sensation of warm hands hauling you out of the water onto the deck came as a relief, but all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and let the hypothermia take you.

No one knew about the power you had gained after terrigenesis. You doubted anyone even knew you'd been through such an ordeal, living most of your life locked away in your flat with nothing but books and your trusty typewriter to keep you company. Until Bucky wormed his way into your life. Word was the fire had started in the kitchen and you had been nowhere near that end of the ship. Yet your conscience couldn't help but plant that guilty seed within you, one that would later tear you away from those you considered family and the only ones that could help you through this and move on into the future.

If you could take the recent past and bottle it up, pretend it never happened, you would. If you could suspend it in a picture frame and hang it on your wall to look back on with fondness, you would. If you could forget such a powerful love and start anew, you would, but things are never that easy, and this time, drastic measures would have to be taken.

_I wish I could wake up with amnesia_. That damned song. Sometimes songs could strike you in the place you hurt most. Before the tears could fall, you turned the radio in your hire car off, intent on getting well away from New York and the memories it held. The sound of the engine was all the unruly thoughts in your brain needed to quiet down. Headed to a new city, a blank slate, a fresh start, would do you good. Releasing a world heavy sigh, you focused on the road ahead, only looking in the rearview mirror when absolutely necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun story: in my drafts, this had the title of 'basically the titanic' which I thought was amusing. So yeah.


	15. Warm

Burning, blazing.  
Falling, falling, falling.  
No. Not falling.  
Anything but falling.  
To where?  
Darkness.   
The bottom.

Smouldering.  
Flame's out.  
Residual heat leaving fast,  
cold creeping in,   
uninvited.  
Not falling?  
No.  
Stillness.  
                Quiet.

Cold, cold, cold.  
Whirring, beeping. Machinery.  
Bright halogen lights.  
Voices. People. Concern?  
Bucky  
?

Cosy. Comfortable.  
Lips on lips... kissing?  
Pressure conveying  
 _emotions_.

Bucky, Bucky, Bucky.  
Not falling. Alive.  
Large, calloused hands.  
Gentle.  
Worried eyes;  
fierce love.

Warm heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
